Adrian Sinclair's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Adrian Sinclair had not fed in three days. The blood sat in a glass on the table, dark and ready. But he could not drink until he counted every drop, and the curse would not let him stop until the count was perfect. His hands shook. He started again. "One. Two. Three." A drop slid down the glass, and he lost the number. He slammed his fist on the table and the glass tipped. Blood spread across the dark stone floor of the manor. He knelt and cleaned it, counting the streaks, hating himself. He was a half vampire. He had lived a hundred years being kind, giving to everyone in the village, hoping the goodness might buy him a cure. It never had. The curse held. If he wanted to feed like a normal creature, he had to break it. But he did not even know who had cast it, or how. He went to the library and pulled down his great-grandfather's journal. The cover felt soft with age in his hands. He had read it many times, but tonight he read slower. Near the back, a page he had always skipped held a single line about a witch who had wronged the family. No name. Only a warning: "Do not undo what you do not understand." That line stopped him cold. For weeks he had gathered spell ingredients, ready to attempt a cure of his own. Now he saw the danger. A wrong spell could bind the curse tighter, or worse. He needed someone who remembered the witch who started this. He needed a record older than his journal. He closed the book and left the manor before he could talk himself out of it. He walked to the cottage at the village edge, where the retired coven historian lived. He had helped her carry firewood many winters. She opened the door before he knocked. A small gray creature peered from behind her skirt. "Thalia Moonwhisper," Adrian said. "I need to know who cursed my bloodline." She studied his face over her round glasses. "You've come three days hungry," she said. "I can smell it. You should have come years ago." He held out the journal. "There's a witch in here. No name. I want to cure the curse, but the book warns me not to guess." Thalia took the journal and did not open it. "Good," she said. "Guessing would have killed you. I remember her. I remember what she wanted, and why she chose your family." She stepped back and held the door wide. "Come in. But once you hear her name, you can't unhear it. And she is not gone." Adrian crossed the threshold. The tabby cat watched from the dark. He had come for a name. He now understood the name would cost him something. He sat down and asked her to begin.